A Saturday night on public transportation is like a holding room for the club. I watched a group of four guys and a group of four girls in the station. The girls wore heels and bite-sized dresses, over which they folded their curls and arms to keep from freezing. One girl kept her right arm outstretched to find a better angle for her unceasing attempts at self-portraits of the group. The boys wore polos and passed around an Aquafina bottle filled with orange liquid. The girls eventually gave up on her arm-span and had one of the boys take the picture. It seemed that they were perfect together.
Only it turned out that they weren't together. Once we sat on the train, I saw that they were total strangers, except of course that their social lives had molded them to fit very well together. The conversation was dull and disconnected, and representatives of each group pretended to get to know the other while cracking camouflaged inside jokes to their counterparts.
"You guys all got nice shoes," said the boys.
"Thanks," said the girls. "Where are you guys going?"
"Where are you guys going?" Three boys mysteriously chuckled. Another round of orange liquid.
"We asked you first." The girls cackle.
It's like tennis, but funnier.
As I left South Station, I had a hard time discerning all the signs for the different train and bus lines. What I wanted was the exit, but I ended up activating an alarm trying to go backwards through the turnstile just in time for the boys to notice.
"Woah, wrong way!" said the loud one.
"Yeah, how embarrassing."
"You are the biggest loser - goodbye," he said, in a drunk and slightly boggled reality-TV reference. I decided not to engage. We all stepped onto the gargantuan escalator. Near the top, the loud boy had a sudden change of heart.
"I'm sorry," he said to me, feigning remorse. "I didn't mean to call you a loser. You're not the biggest loser." This was all part of the boys and girls game. His role was to throw insults at me through a charming smile until I simply couldn't resist any longer. But I don't like to play that game.
"No, I know," I replied.
"Oooh, so... Wait, are you saying I'm the biggest loser?"
"No." I replied, and our paths diverged toward our respective Saturday nights.
Only it turned out that they weren't together. Once we sat on the train, I saw that they were total strangers, except of course that their social lives had molded them to fit very well together. The conversation was dull and disconnected, and representatives of each group pretended to get to know the other while cracking camouflaged inside jokes to their counterparts.
"You guys all got nice shoes," said the boys.
"Thanks," said the girls. "Where are you guys going?"
"Where are you guys going?" Three boys mysteriously chuckled. Another round of orange liquid.
"We asked you first." The girls cackle.
It's like tennis, but funnier.
As I left South Station, I had a hard time discerning all the signs for the different train and bus lines. What I wanted was the exit, but I ended up activating an alarm trying to go backwards through the turnstile just in time for the boys to notice.
"Woah, wrong way!" said the loud one.
"Yeah, how embarrassing."
"You are the biggest loser - goodbye," he said, in a drunk and slightly boggled reality-TV reference. I decided not to engage. We all stepped onto the gargantuan escalator. Near the top, the loud boy had a sudden change of heart.
"I'm sorry," he said to me, feigning remorse. "I didn't mean to call you a loser. You're not the biggest loser." This was all part of the boys and girls game. His role was to throw insults at me through a charming smile until I simply couldn't resist any longer. But I don't like to play that game.
"No, I know," I replied.
"Oooh, so... Wait, are you saying I'm the biggest loser?"
"No." I replied, and our paths diverged toward our respective Saturday nights.
Nice post Anna. I never really understood why some people use insults as conversation starters...certainly doesn´t make one want to have a conversation...
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